


Where Different Paths Lead - Part 2

by tobiasclancy



Series: Where Different Paths Lead [2]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games), Red Dead Redemption 2
Genre: (please someone get that reference), Blood, Bromance, Established Relationship, F/M, Fuck Micah, Guns and shit, John is a Good Friend, Kind of a fix it?, Lots of plot, No tuberculosis, Train Robberies, abigail is a great friend, arthur is an angry fucker, arthur's horse is called spunky dont @ me, but with some added heart break because i'm THAT kind of cunt, estranged spouses, fuck dutch too, let me make that clear, plotty plot plot, rootin tootin cowboy shootin, there is NO TB, there will be cocke balles and vagene, they're the three best friends that anyone could have, throw some eventual cowboy sex in, we'd all fuck dutch, we're all just one big happy family, wolf pack awoooo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-09-24 21:29:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20365399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tobiasclancy/pseuds/tobiasclancy
Summary: After having no contact for 5 years, one of the most important people in Arthur's life returns, and then disappears again - or so he thought.





	1. The Train Job

**Author's Note:**

> The first part of this directly leads into this chapter. I have left the first part on it's own so it can be read as a stand-alone. If you read this, please read Part 1 first.

“You okay, Arthur?”  
  
Arthur sighed testily. This was the umpteenth time someone had asked him that question since the night he came back from the Saloon after ‘reconnecting’ with Dahlia. He’d been so totally drunk that Spunky – clearly sick of his shit – had deposited him in a drunken heap right in front of his tent. Arthur was glad the horse was loyal to that extent but was a touch worried also, as every day since the horse had given him nastiest side eye ever and would huff at him if he had a drink while in her field of vision.

He released a tight breath, counted to five, and turned around to answer Abigail.  
  
“I’m fine.” He stated flatly and began to walk off.  
  
Abigail matched his pace and gripped his arm, she didn’t try to turn him around, but the tightness in her grip forced Arthur to stop regardless.  
  
“You don’t have to pretend, Arthur. John told me what happened, I just want to make sure you’re okay.”  
  
Arthur inwardly cringed. He forced John – under threat of serious pain and or death – to never breath a word of what he told him to anyone.

After Spunky had dropped him off, John had been the first to find Arthur in the most pitiful state, attempting to crawl drunkenly into his tent. It wasn’t the first time John had seen him in that state. They were practically brothers, having grown up together and watching each other come of age, reaching different milestones. John had been there the first time Dahlia had left, and the second time, and the third time. It was only natural John would be there for the last time too.  
  
Arthur’s memory of that night after getting back to camp was blurry at best, but he does remember John half carrying him to the outskirts of the camp so Arthur could cry and vent and vomit without nosy members of their gang watching on. He’d told him _everything_, how angry he was at himself, at her, and John just listened. John was good like that.  
  
He also vaguely remembers somehow ending up snuggled between John and Abigail, but he tried to forget about that and pretend it didn’t happen.

“Abigail, _please_.” Arthur pleaded, sounding somewhat desperate.

Abigail raised her hands and took a step back from him; she knew when to quit.  
  
“Okay Arthur. You know where to find me.” She turned to walk away, then turned back and motioned over towards Dutch’s tent.  
  
“Now you’re back, Dutch said he wanted to see you as soon as you get in.”  
  
Arthur groaned in annoyance. _Of course_. No rest for the wicked, it seemed.  
  
As of late, Arthur had been spending a lot of time outside of camp, keeping himself busy, staying isolated. He couldn’t stand to be in his own skin, even more so than usual. Everything just annoyed him, and he found it hard to be around the others without getting unduly frustrated – especially so when Dutch and Micah were practically _fawning_ over each other lately. It was driving him insane.

Arthur knew his place in the gang, he was no fool. He knew very well he was the workhorse, the only one Dutch trusted to do his dirty work properly; but he _knew_ his adoptive fathers trust in the weaselly man was misguided. Micah stood against all their ideals, and Arthur just simply didn’t like him. Couldn’t stand the way he spoke, the way he held himself. Everything about him just rubbed Arthur the wrong way. He didn’t trust the man.

He put those thoughts to the side, not wiling to deal with them, well, ever, and made his way over to Dutch’s tent.  
  
The man himself was sat in his usual seat, reading a book whilst listening to that godawful record on that godawful gramophone. Arthur had half a mind some evenings to remove the needle, or just break it enough so it no longer worked, but he never did. Sat near him was Hosea, looking over what appeared to be a map in front of him, and several other pieces of paper.  
  
“You wanted ta see me, Dutch?” Arthur spoke loudly over the music.

Dutch jumped slightly, and upon realising it was Arthur, he stood up, throwing his arms wide and smiling even wider.  
  
“Arthur my boy! Nice to see your face back in camp.”  
  
Arthur just shrugged sheepishly and dug his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He nodded towards Hosea in greeting, the older man smiling and nodding back.  
  
“You’re back just in time.” He made a sweeping gesture with his arms and retreated into the tent, and Arthur followed, as was required of him to do.  
  
“Another job?” Arthur questioned, ducking his head as he stepped under the rolled-up canvas door.

“Most certainly. Some of that information that your _wife_ passed on worked out quite well. I had Micah checking it out. It looks to be very promising.” Dutch smiled, and Arthur felt his insides twist at the tone the man used when mentioning Dahlia. It was the first time Dutch had even acknowledged her visit to camp almost two months ago, not that Arthur every truly discussed that part of his life with the man anymore.

“Wealthy people coming down from up North, supposed to be heading on into Rhodes from the east side of the Dakota in about three days-time.” Hosea informed, now beginning to draw markers on the map, clearly trying to figure out the best spot to ambush their target. “Not heavily guarded, but enough to be a bit of a challenge.”

“Train or Stage?” Arthur asked, scratching at his stubble as he looked down over Hosea’s shoulder, attempting to figure out Hosea’s game plan.  
  
“Train,” Hosea supplied without looking up at him. “Supposedly just rich civilians, some plantation owners maybe, so shouldn’t be too much trouble They’re doing a guard change over at Riggs Station.”

“So, we’ll have to hit it before then. Sure, sounds easy enough.” Arthur agreed. “Any idea on the take?” He questioned, looking to Dutch.

Dutch smiled wider and Arthur pursed his lips in worry.

“Enough that this should be our last heist.” He laughed, clapping his hands together excitedly.

Arthur nodded and looked back down to the paperwork in front of Hosea, picking up a sheet and scanning the information. Sure enough, it was a ledger of the wealthy people who should be on board the train. He didn’t bother to read anymore.

“Where do you want me on the job?” Arthur asked Dutch, sitting himself down on the table, hooking his thumbs into his gun belt.

“I want you to take lead on this one. Choose who you want, but I want you to take Micah.” Dutch spoke with authority.

Arthur sucked his teeth and spat at the man’s name. He saw Hosea shake his head at the action from his peripheral vision, and instantly felt shame; the man had taught him better than to behave like that.

“C’mon Dutch, ya can’t be serious.” Arthur complained, standing and putting his hands on his hips.

Dutch held up his hand to silence the younger, his expression unimpressed.

“Now I don’t wanna hear your _whinin’_, Arthur. You may not like him, but he is an _asset to our family_, and I want him in on this.” The way Dutch stressed Micah’s importance to the gang made Arthur clench his jaw tightly. He wasn’t happy about this, not in the least.

Arthur rolled his eyes and threw his hands up in the air in frustration. “Alright Dutch, alright. I’ll take bloody _Micah_.” He growled the man’s name with as much venom as he could.

“Don’t be so goddamn _childish_ Arthur.” Dutch admonished, but Arthur just waved him off and stalked away to think about who he wanted to bring in on this job and how they would stop the train.

* * *

The four of them made their way up near Cattail Pond, just up the tracks from Wallace station. Arthur had chosen John, and Karen had insisted on being a part of this job, claiming it needed _“a woman’s vision”_, and Arthur was never one to deny Karen. Unfortunately, Micah still tagged on, and Arthur still wasn’t over it, but he put the anger aside to get the job done and come home alive – so long as Micah didn’t get trigger happy.

Arthur had specifically stated he wanted no one dead, gang member or civilian – guards were necessary collateral. They’d all agreed, but he had a hard time believing Micah wouldn’t shoot someone in the head just for fun.

Arthur also wasn’t too happy about raiding the train here, felt it was too close to Valentine, and if anything went wrong and someone got shot, it would be heard from that distance. However, he trusted Hosea’s judgment and lead the others to a small gulley just before the train tunnel.

“So, what’s the plan?” John asked as they all lined their horses up and jumped off, waiting for Arthur’s go.

“Tell me ya gotta plan, cowpoke.” Micah drawled loudly.

Arthur pointedly ignored Micah’s comment and pulled his pocket watch from his coat pocket and squinted at the face in the little moonlight there was.

“Train should be pulling through in about twenty minutes. We take this easy, no shootin’, no hollerin’ ‘til we board that train. We ride up, jump on the guard carriage and take the guards as quietly as we can–”  
  
“I have a better idea,” Karen smiled, jumping off her horse.

Arthur raised his eyebrow, but let her continue, interested to hear her take.

She pulled her jacket off, folding it neatly and tucking it into a saddle bag on her horse, then she ripped at the bodice and shoulder of her dress, and proceeded to make herself looked dishevelled and untidy. She bent over and rubbed her hands into the dirt and proceeded to rub it on her face.

Arthur began to smirk, recognising one of the woman’s signature cons.

She smiled at the three men, holding her arms out at her sides.

“How I look fellas?”

“Like a poor, lost damsel needin’ some help.” Arthur chuckled.

Karen nodded, and then proceeded to shock Arthur with her next sentence.

“Now someone punch me. In the mouth.”

“Karen that ain’t necessary–”

“Want that train to stop or what?”

“Karen–“

“C’mon John, I know ya gotta mean right hook.”

“Karen I ain’t never hit a woman and I ain’t about ta–”

Before John could even finish his sentence, Micah lurched forward and punched Karen in the jaw, causing the woman to fall to the ground from the force of the punch. John and Arthur reacted instantly, Arthur reaching for Karen, and John grabbing Micah by his collar and slamming him into a tree.

“You fucker!” John roared, his voice cracking.

“She said to punch her!” Micah yelled back.

“Shut the fuck up all a ya’ll!” Arthur bellowed, instantly silencing the men.

“John put the weasel down.” Arthur sighed as he picked Karen up from the dirt. “You alright?”

Karen nodded, tears in her eyes and blood trickling from her nose and mouth. “Just fine, Arthur. It’s just part of the plan.”

Arthur nodded, and after further checking the woman was alright, he turned around to John and Micah. John thankfully had put him down, and both men stood a good ten feet apart from each other. Arthur just rolled his eyes; he was getting too old for this shit.

“Okay, now we got that sorted. We got maybe another ten minutes before that train pulls in. Karen, I’m assumin’ you’ll stop the train somehow, I trust your work. When we stop the train, I want you and John up front to rob those folks blind. Micah, you’n me will take the guard and luggage carriages. _Try_ to be quiet, I don’t want no law turning up, and I don’t want these folks spooked neither. Don’t use names. We get in fast, we get out fast. Understood?”

They all nodded and began taking their positions. Micah got back up on his horse, riding down the tracks a ways to hide in the bushes for the train. Arthur got up on Spunky and watched as John led Old Boy and Karen’s horse deeper into the shrub to hide them, but close enough that Old Boy would hear John whistle for him. John stayed with the horses, waiting until he needed to jump in.

Arthur followed Karen to the tracks on Spunky. Blood still slowly trickled from her nose, and Arthur felt such guilt at the sight.

“Anything goes wrong, you get outta here, alright?”

Karen laughed. “Arthur, you worry too much. I’ll be _fine_.”

Arthur nodded, but he remembered all the times she wasn’t fine and didn’t want a repeat, ever. Rather than saying as such, he just nodded and rode down the way to find Micah and wait.

Sure enough, the train was coming through on time. Arthur could see the light from the train coming through the darkness of the tunnel. He turned to Micah, gave him his meanest glare ever, a non-verbal message to not fuck up or he would strangle him. Micah just raised his palms and watched as the train came past them.

Arthur looked down the tracks for Karen and saw her right in the middle of the tracks, waving her arms frantically. He couldn’t see from this distance, but he knew she was putting on her best act.

He heard the train whistle, then the bell, clearly signalling for Karen to move. His heart leaped into his throat for a brief moment, thinking that the train wouldn’t stop. He let out a breath as he heard the conductor apply the breaks and the train began screeching to a halt.

Soon enough, the conductor and engineer jumped off the train and began walking towards Karen.  
  
“What in god’s name are you doing in the middle of the tracks lady?” The conductor, a tall, lanky man with dark hair yelled.

Karen went all in on her act, sobbing hysterically while bunching her fists into her skirts.

“I was being chased by some nasty men. My horse, she fell down a gulley and I had to leave her.” Karen cried hysterically, wiping her tears and the blood from her nose and mouth all over her face for effect.

“Please, ya gotta help me sirs. Please!”

The conductor took a step back, and the engineer took a step forward and reached his hand out to try to console the crying woman in front of him.

Arthur watched a John snuck out from the shrubbery and approached the men from behind. If he didn’t feel so stressed, he’d be feeling proud at the display, but there was time for that later.

As soon as Karen saw John behind the two men, she watched as he gave her the signal, and immediately dropped her act, pulling her gun out and levelling it at the engineer. John pulled his own gun and pressed it into the back of the conductor. Both the men were wide eyed and confused.

Karen laughed. “You’ve been had boys.” She pulled her balaclava up around the bottom of her face and began tying the first man up with the rope John threw to her, John handling the other.

Arthur nodded to Micah, and they both made their way to the guard carriage at the back. Arthur was hoping there would be little resistance. When he pulled up to the door, he jumped from his horse onto the train and shooed her away to safety, Micah doing the same. Arthur pulled his balaclava up and motioned for Micah to do the same.

Arthur listened for any noise coming from the carriage, upon hearing none, he hoped the guards were either just asleep, or up the front of their carriage wondering why the train had stopped.

Arthur looked to Micah again, held up his hand and motioned with his fingers. _On three_. He signalled and began to count down on his fingers. On one, he kicked in the door, blowing it off it’s hinges. Luckily, the guards had been asleep, and jumped awake at the sound of the door falling in. Arthur took the man furthest away, smashing him in the head with the butt of his gun, Micah strangling the other until he passed out. They tied both men and gagged them and continued on.

Arthur could see another guard just ahead and motioned for Micah to stop. Arthur stood up against the wall, waiting until he took a step back, closer into Arthurs range to grab. Arthur grabbed the man, wrapping his hand around his mouth and smashing his head into the metal barrier, knocking him out cold too.

“Tie him too. I’m gonna go look ahead.” Arthur murmured to the other man.

Micah rolled his eyes. “Always the hero.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Arthur hissed back, then moved forward, crouched low.

He could hear John and Karen on the other end of the train, yelling out commands to the passengers, telling them to give up their valuables or get shot. Arthur felt his anxiety settle, knowing they both had them under control.

When Arthur reach the luggage carriage, he began to worry again. He knew Hosea said the guard would be light, but this just seemed a bit too light, just this side of fishy. He ignored the feeling and began his looting, puling out his bag and searching for anything of value – pocket watches, jewellery, cigars and of course money.

Micah joined him soon after, and began his own looting, looking through other bags that Arthur hadn’t gotten too yet.

They soon grabbed everything they could find of any value and made their way down to the passenger carriages just as Karen and John were coming out, both looking pleased.

“What’s the take?” Micah questioned.

John smiled under his balaclava, making his eyes twinkle in the moonlight. “About three-hundred and fifty dollars in bills, some jewellery. Good stuff.”

Arthur whistled in awe. “Not bad ladies and gents, not bad at all."

“We should get a move o–”

Karen didn’t finish her sentence as a shot rang out, just missing the four of them. They all sprung into action, finding boxes and walls to hide behind. Arthur felt dread in the pit of his stomach.

“Goddfuckingdammit,” He swore.

“Get off the train and come out with your hands raised.” A male voice called out in the darkness.

Micah peeked over his box, his guns already out. “It’s the law, _boss_. What we doing?”

Arthur slammed his head back into the wooden box he was hiding behind several times in frustration.

“_Fuck,”_ He hissed. “How many?”

Micah peeked again. “Hmm. ‘bout two, maybe three. Mounted.”

Arthur growled lowly in anger. “Guess we shootin’ our way out. Karen, stay down.”

“Come on boys. We know you’re in there.” The lawman yelled out again.

“You come on up and take us!” Arthur hollered.

He pulled his rifle from his back, stood, quickly took aim and shot the first deputy he saw. It was on then faster than a wildfire, and shots rained down on them in retaliation. They shot back and forth, and Arthur realised it wasn't just a few of them, it was at least ten. He knew the odds weren’t good.

“Call the horses and get the fuck out of here. There’s too many, we’ll split up and meet at camp later.” Arthur yelled over the gun shots.

They all nodded and disappeared to opposite ends of the train, shooting at the law as they went. Arthur stayed where he was, hoping to distract as many of the lawmen as he could to stay and keep shooting at him. He continued to reach over his box and take pot-shots at the nearest men.

Until he saw in the distance a black horse. A familiar horse. He heard a gun cock to his right and turned and nearly felt his heart fall through his arse.

“Dahl?”

The woman’s eyes widened in shock and recognition and her pistol lowered slightly. “Arthur?”

Arthur went to open his mouth and speak again, until he felt a bullet tear through his shoulder. He yelled out, the pain sending him sprawling to the floor and near blinding him. He got to his feet as quickly as he could, jumped off the train and ran, whistling for his horse.

Thankfully she wasn’t a stupid animal and she came galloping out of the bushes on the left side of the train. He jumped onto her saddle and kicked her hard, urging her to flee as fast as her legs would carry them. Arthur reached up to touch his shoulder, his hand coming away covered in blood.

He couldn’t believe what he saw, didn’t want too. He didn’t understand.

He tucked it away for later analysis, knowing that right now he needed to focus on getting away alive.

* * *

Four days later, Arthur returned to camp. He’d patched himself up as well as he could, but knew he needed Hosea and Susan to look at and clean the wound, lest it fester, and he get sick from the injury.

He rode Spunky up to where the other horses rested, leaving her reins trailing on the ground, knowing she wouldn’t wander too far from the group. He watched as she playfully bit and danced around Old Boy and smiled, giving her a quick pat while promising to brush her down later, he just needed to _rest_.

He gabbed his bag of loot, throwing it over his shoulder and made his way over to Dutch’s tent. Dutch was outside it luckily, but so was Micah, and Arthur cursed internally.

When Dutch caught sight of him, he jumped up and called out to him.

“Arthur, glad you’re back. We were about to send a search party.” He smiled.

Arthur laughed, the sound without humour. “No need.”

“I’ve already taken my cut.” He threw the bag into Dutch’s tent, then turned to go to his tent and lay down. He just wanted to sleep for a few days, eat a proper meal, and nurse his wound. He still needed to figure out if who he saw was actually who he thought it was.

“What’s wrong with you, Morgan?” Micah called out.

Arthur ignored him. He was too tired to deal with this. Too tired to even retaliate. He didn’t want to bother. Yet Micah persisted.

“Hey, I’m talking to you, arsehole.”

“Micah can you just shut the fuck up for Christ’s sake?” Arthur hollered back.

“Micah, enough.” Came Dutch’s longsuffering tone.

“You still sore about your woman running off on you, cowpoke?” Micah jeered at Arthur’s retreating form.  
  
Arthur stopped in his tracks, turned around, and levelled the most ferocious glare at the slimy cunt in front of him. He stalked towards him, raising his arm and pointing angrily at the blonde.

“I’m warnin’ you, Micah.” Arthur said with a calmness that belied the anger he felt.

“Ah. Touchy touchy. Ain’t man enough to keep her around, huh. I could pay her a visit.” Micah’s tone dripped with malice.

“Don’t you _dare_ talk about my wife, you oily piece of shit.” He hissed.

Micah’s smile only widened, and as he opened his mouth to continue his taunts, Arthur had raised his fist and socked him in the mouth, hard. Micah fell to the group in a heap, knocked out cold, blood leaking from his mouth.

Molly shrieked at the sight, several of the men who were close by laughed and whooped at the scene. Dutch roared over the noise, and demanded Arthur _come back right this second_. Arthur walked away from the scene, nursing his split knuckles as he headed towards the other side of the camp.

He found John along the way, stopping to ask him if he’d seen Hosea and Miss Grimshaw. He was in a significant amount of pain. First his shoulder, which he is almost certain the bullet tore right through, was throbbing and still oozing that not quite blood liquid, and now he’d gone and busted his knuckles. Couldn’t he ever get some goddamn peace?

“Hosea is with Pearson, Miss Grimshaw with the other women.” John answered. The younger man looked his friend over, frowning deeply.

“Ya look like shit Arthur.”

Arthur just stared at him and eventually laughed; the sound full of mirth. “Thanks, wolf-boy.” He patted John on the shoulder as the younger scowled at him.


	2. Chapter 2

_2 months after the train job_

The one thing Arthur hated more than anything, was the stifling, wet heat the gang currently found themselves in. He was used to being uncomfortable, sure, but this was a whole new level of uncomfortable. Uncle likened it to living in a whorehouse set alight. Bill – so eloquently – described it as living underneath the sweaty scrotum of the devil. Arthur didn’t disagree with either sentiment.

After the train robbery, the gang had pursued a lead that included robbing the biggest train and oil magnate in the states – Leviticus Cornwall. The job had only added more fuel to the already well burning fire they found themselves in. After the bungled job, they’d been confronted by Leviticus himself, and had only just managed to get away with their lives.

As they couldn’t go back west, they headed further east to Lemoyne, and Arthur decided he hated their new home deeply. Hated how the flies constantly buzzed around him, hated how he was sweating in places he never knew he could even sweat, hated how utterly uncomfortable and miserable he was during the day, the night house bringing little relief either.

As he sat in the shade of some trees by the water, attempting to keep cool in the late afternoon, he opened his journal and began to write, having been unable to properly get his thoughts down since leaving Valentine.

He’d thought over, and over, and over the events, and still couldn’t come up with a reason as to why Dahlia had been there on that damn train. He turned the memory this way and that, upside down and all the way around to try to make sense of the appearance.

Initially he’d thought it had been some sort of coincidence but could not think of any reason as to why she would have still been in the area after their meeting all those months ago – she’d gone to Canada, supposedly.

Did she lie to him?

He knew now that she was working with the Marshall and wondered if she had she set them up in an attempt to catch the gang in the act. He knew Dutch would think so, but Arthur wasn’t convinced in it. Doubt still niggled in the back of his mind, however.

He still hadn’t told Dutch about it, and was thankful he’d sent the John, Karen and Micah ahead before him. He knew Micah would have gone straight to Dutch, calling him out about it, putting Arthur in a position he really didn’t want to be in.

“What are you up too woman?” He murmured, sighing as focused on his hand, realising he’d been absentmindedly drawing the woman.

Gently he shut his journal, tucking his pencil into the spine and laid the book in his lap. He stared out over the water, watching the millions of bugs swarming over the surface, wondering where she was, what she was doing.

Was she about to betray them – betray him?

Was she even capable of doing that? Dahlia knew how much the gang meant to him, _what_ it meant to him, and he wondered if maybe over the years she’d changed her stance on them, especially now that she was working for the Government.

Arthur knew the position it could put her in if someone found out about her connection to the gang. Arthur was wanted in ten states and had one of the biggest bounties ever seen – second only to Dutch – and Dahlia was married to _him_. Arthur wasn’t blind to the danger it put her in, and why she stayed away.

Speaking of her long stints away from him, she had just walked into their camp with information to give to Dutch, she’d said that herself, and Dutch still hadn’t told him about _anything_ that Dahlia had brought him. After five years of no contact, why did she now suddenly come back into the picture? How had she even known where to find them?

Arthur felt his heart drop, started to feel a bit sick. Had he unwittingly put them in danger somehow? He’d left letters for her at random post offices as the gang had moved around, never receiving an answer, and while he’d never explicitly discussed the gang’s whereabouts in those letters, he’d given a vague description, enough that if she had wanted to find him, she could have.

His last letter had been months before Blackwater, so it couldn’t have been possible for her to find them at Horseshoe Overlook. There was no way she could have known they’d wound up there, especially after trekking through the mountains and spending weeks up in Colter. Was she keeping tabs on their whereabouts somehow? Did she have people following them?

He shook his head to clear his thoughts, reached into his breast pocket and fished out his packet of cigarettes, proceeding to light one and take a long, calming drag, gently releasing the smoke and watching the tendrils spiral up into the air.

He needed to stop thinking in circles like this, it was only winding him up and making him paranoid like Dutch. Dahlia couldn’t be working against them. She loved Arthur, surely she didn’t want to hurt him or those closest to him.  
  
Could she?

“Arthur Morgan, you are a _fool_.” He chastised himself as he stood up from his spot, making his way over to his tent to put his journal back.

***

_5 days after the train job_

“Did he recognise you?”  
  
“Of course he recognised me. What kind of question is that?” Dahlia sighed.  
  
“Did the law recognise him?”  
  
Dahlia shook her head. “I don’t think so. He had his face covered.”  
  
“Anything else?”

“One of the Thompson boys shot him, in the shoulder I think.”

The Marshall sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “How did Dutch even think to go after the dang train? He was supposed to go for the bait in Rhodes.”

Dahlia shrugged. “Dutch ain’t a stupid man, Sidney. He read between the lines and sniffed out more information than he needed too. That’s what he does, what he’s _good _at. He’ll likely still hit Rhodes after this.”

“Was Dutch even on the train?"

Dahlia shook her head. “No. Just Arthur, John and two others, another man and a woman.”

Sidney nodded, wiping his hand down his face tiredly as he walked back around his desk and sat down behind it.

Dahlia sighed herself, pouring her and Sidney another drink. “I didn’t think it would have been enough for him to even bother looking into. Clearly I was wrong.”

“You were very wrong.” Sidney accepted the drink offered to him and took a small sip. “This is beginning to get messy. I can’t promise Arthur and the others will come out alive. Arthur is going to be hard to grant clemency anyway, Dahlia. His bounty is enormous.”

“I know Sidney. I know.” Dahlia took a drink from her own glass. “But I’m willing to try, and I’m going to see this through to the end, no matter how it ends.”

Sidney nodded, and offered her a small smile. “He must be one hell of man to keep you breaking the law after you left the life.”

Dahlia smiled back. “You’ve no idea. I think you and he would get along, actually. Both men of your code, fighting for what you believe is true and right, but also men of contradictions.”

The Marshall lifted his glass in a silent toast, taking another drink.

The Marshall, Sidney, was an older man. His dark brown hair was beginning to grow grey at the temples as well as his well-groomed goatee. Dahlia wasn’t too sure, but she placed his age around his mid-forties to early fifties. He was quite tall, almost as tall as Arthur but not quite as broad. He had pleasant features; his skin was tanned, either sun-kissed or from his heritage Dahlia wasn’t sure, she knew his parents were immigrants, but she didn’t know where they were from, nor did it really concern her. He treated her just the same as he treated anyone who worked under him – with respect.

He was right though. It was starting to get a little hairy. She’d known that trying to bring Dutch in would be hard. He was a smart man, unpredictable at times, the recent train robbery catching her off guard. It was lucky she had chosen to be on the first escort sending the train to Rhodes. She had been hoping Dutch would just hit Rhodes itself, her and the Marshall had organised with the local law there to work together to bring Dutch in. As always, the man surprised her.

However, it was a bit out of character for him. Dutch was a criminal through and through, so taking the train wasn’t the surprise, the timing itself was more shocking than anything. The Van der Linde gang were on the radar of every sheriff, Marshall, bounty hunter and police officer in the country. In the past, the gang would have laid low, especially when they had this much heat on their backs.

She thought back to their last meeting. He’d been pretty much the same as he’d always been, but something had been… off about him. She couldn’t explain it. Something in his eyes had set her on edge, as well as the blonde man who had hung around the tent when she’d turned up to camp. She’d never seen him before, so she knew he was new to the gang. He was slimy and disgusting, reminding her of a rat that had been caught in an oil slick.

The short of it, she knew something was wrong with Dutch. He was a man of habit, and rarely changed tactics. She’d read about the boat job in Blackwater, which had been an all-around terrible event. They’d lost some of their number to the Pinkertons, and a young girl had been supposedly killed by the gang. It wasn’t like them, not at all.

Dahlia had been so deep in thought she hadn’t realised Sidney had been speaking to her.  
  
“Yes, sir?”

“We need to come up with a new tactic. We need to get Dutch first, and the Pinkertons are closing in on them real fast.”

“I’ll figure something out.” She replied, yawning as she stood to take her leave.

“Dahlia,”

She turned around to face the man, mild confusion setting into her face.

“Get some sleep first.” Sidney smiled, waving her off as he set his glass down and set his eyes to the paperwork atop his desk.

Dahlia nodded and made her way down the hallway, out the front door and down the street towards the Inn she was staying at.

She knew she’d have little options at this point. Dutch needed to be brought in quickly, and the gang dismantled as quickly and bloodlessly as they could.

Dahlia would need to see Arthur again, and tell him the truth, and hope to whatever god there was he wouldn’t shoot her on the spot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took longer to push out. I've been super bogged down with Uni and work the last month and a bit.
> 
> A much shorter chapter than the last, a bit more plot building, some more brooding/thinking for himself Arthur, and the introduction of a new character important to the plot.
> 
> I'm taking some liberty with the timeline, and also in what order some of the events happened.
> 
> As always, enjoy! Feedback is appreciated and welcome. Tell me what you loved, and tell me what you hated.

**Author's Note:**

> So this took on a persona of it's own and became more than a one shot. The first part of this fic was only supposed to be 1300 words of an angsty dicking and look how that turned out.
> 
> Don't expect updates as quickly as this, but I will aim for updating at LEAST once a month. I study and work, so those things will come first.
> 
> I have a tumblr account also: goshdarncowyboys.tumblr.com


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